


A Gentle Nudge

by Car



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bev and Eddie are divorce buddies like god intended, Eddie & Therapy, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, M/M, Matchmaker Beverly Marsh, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, The REAL OTP honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Car/pseuds/Car
Summary: His eyes were still big, even bigger than usual, and the leg she wasn't touching bounced nervously. "I'm not in love with you," he repeated, finally looking over at Bev. "I've never been in love with you.""Wow, kick a girl while she's down," she quipped.Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Focus, Bev. I'm having a revelation, here."As Bev and Eddie support each other in their respective divorces, Eddie begins to reevaluate some things about himself. Bev, who maaaybe knows a little more than she lets on, helps nudge him in the right direction.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 26
Kudos: 305





	A Gentle Nudge

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in my imaginary canon universe where Stan never took a bath, and thus things went a hell of a lot more smoothly for the Losers, and everyone survived. Yay! 
> 
> This was written in chunks whenever I could find time at work to work on it this semester, and is totally self-indulgent because Bev and Eddie friendship is my favorite, and there is not enough of it out there.

  
Beverly Marsh was, believe it or not, not actually a middle schooler.

In fact, she was forty-one, a successful fashion designer, about to be officially divorced, and dating a sexy, kind-hearted architect who loved her with his whole heart and soul. So no, she was not a middle schooler anymore.  
  


Unfortunately, it seemed some of her friends had missed that memo.   
  


Now, Beverly loved her friends. Her boys. Her Losers. They were, without exaggeration, her favorite people in the entire world. She would kill and die for every single of them, no questions asked.  
  


But dear lord, did they drive her crazy.   
  


She was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a chai tea and scribbling in her notebook when Eddie bursted in the door, slamming it behind him and staring her down with wide, terrified eyes.  
  


"Bevvie," he squeaked. "I'm not in love with you."  
  


"Oh," she replied, blinking once in amusement. "Okay? That's... probably for the best?"  
  


Eddie toed off his shoes, setting them down on their rightful place on the shoe rack, before shuffling into the living room and sitting rigidly on the couch. Bev sighed, closing her notebook and joining him.   
  


She and Eddie had been rooming together in New York for almost two months, joined in solidarity as they navigated though the Freudian nightmare of their divorces together. Ben, the amazing, wonderful man, offered up his own little Manhattan, two-bedroom apartment for them to use while he continued to work in Nebraska, and they were both eager to take him up on his offer; Eddie, wanting to be front and center for all of his meetings and court dates (he was always a little bit of a control freak, though she wasn't about to bring that up to him), and Bev, happy to be far from Chicago, letting her lawyers handle the headache so she didn't have to.   
  


Maybe a little selfishly, Bev wished Ben could be there with them as well, but they both knew it was best to keep their distance for a bit, at least until the media deemed her spilt from Tom as old news. But until then, life with Eddie was, well, _good_. He was a good roommate. He was clean, he could cook, he went to bed early, and always started the coffee pot for her before going on his morning runs. They enjoyed similar, guilty pleasure home decorating and cooking competition shows, and sometimes, he even let her play dress up, forcing him into styles way outside his comfort zone, but always left him a little pink cheeked and bashful with the compliments she rained down on him.   
  


But Eddie was still Eddie. And Eddie had a tendency to let his mind run away from him, often leading to anxiety filled panic attacks that she was still learning how to calm him down from.   
  


(That had always been more Richie's thing, but she was learning.)  
  


Thankfully, he didn't appear to be quite to that point yet, but that didn't mean it was't a possibility, so she approached with caution.  
  


"Sweetie? You okay?" she asked, placing what she hoped as a comforting hand on his knee.   
  


His eyes were still big, even bigger than usual, and the leg she wasn't touching bounced nervously. "I'm not in love with you," he repeated, finally looking over at her. "I've never been in love with you."  
  


"Wow, kick a girl while she's down," she quipped.  
  


Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, shut up," he snapped, and Bev inwardly cheered for herself for managing to break at least a little tension. "Fucking focus, Bev. I'm having a revelation, here." 

  
"Sorry, sorry." She grinned, rubbing a little soft circle on his knee. "Please continue."  
  


"Thank you. Okay, so I met with Myra today." Eddie pointedly ignored her grimace at the mention of his ex. Bev had never exactly kept it secret how little she thought of her. "And I'm like, packing up my shit from the garage, you know? Tools, old lawn chairs, it's all still shoved in the back of the car, by the way. Whatever, it's not important. Anyway, Myra looks at me, and fucking, crosses her arms," he crosses his own arms, in a rather impressive imitation. "And she says, she says _'I don't see why you need all that, Eddie, living in an apartment with that new tramp girlfriend of yours._ '"  
  


"Tramp?!" Bev gasped with a laugh.  
  


"Yes!"  
  


"I'm the tramp?!"  
  


"Fucking apparently!" Eddie shook his head, still in disbelief. "And I look at her, Bev, and I'm like, ' _Beverly Marsh is not my girlfriend. I do not have any feelings for Bev, and she does not have any feelings for me_.' Because, I mean–" he gestured to himself vaguely.   
  


Bev pursed her lips. "Wait, wait, what was that?"  
  


"What was what?"  
  


"This!" She gestured vaguely to herself, as Eddie had done.   
  


He rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're joking right now. We are on, like, two entirely different plains of existence, as far as attractiveness goes."  
  


" _What?_ Eddie! Shut up! That is not true!"  
  


"It's _so_ true!"  
  


"It is not!" she cried. "Look at you, you're like..." She gestured vaguely at him again, not missing how Eddie crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "Like, a sexy, Nike sneaker ad or something. I don't know, but you are _gorgeous_ , and I will not stand for you saying otherwise."  
  


"Ugh. Can we, like, focus, here?" he snapped, his face taking on a clear rosy tint that very much wasn't there before the conversation had taken this particular turn. "Can we? Please?"   
  


"Okay. But we're coming back to this later."  
  


" _Fine,_ whatever." He sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping suddenly. "The thing is, Bev, while Myra and I were talking, it just kind of... hit me." He trailed off at that point, mentally deconstructing and reconstructing his thoughts to help make them more easily digestible for her. "I've _never_ had feelings for you. Even when we were kids, and you were the prettiest, coolest girl to ever even acknowledge my presence, which is like, still true, but I _didn't_ , and _don't_ have feelings for you."  
  


Bev's eyes softened. "Maybe I'm just not your type?" she offered, smiling tenderly.   
  


Eddie scoffed. "You're talented, smart, beautiful, rich, and famous. You're literally everyone's type."  
  


"I mean, I'm not Richie's type."  
  


And oh man, if it didn't get dangerously quiet after that. Bev was pretty sure she could have cut the tension with a knife, and by the look on Eddie's face, he could feel it too.   
  


Not long after their final showdown with the clown, once everyone had returned back to their lives, Richie came out to the world on his Twitter. A simple post, showing an open closet door and letting everyone know he was okay, alive, _not_ in rehab, _nor_ in jail, and finally out of the closet. Surprise! He's gay!  
  


They had given him endless shit in the Losers group chat for him making them find out on Twitter of all things, accompanied by heartfelt texts of support and love and pride, and eventually things returned to normal, albeit with he added bonus of Richie switching out 'Your Mom' jokes for an occasional 'Your Dad' joke, and Stan randomly sending them pictures of the most flamboyant, rainbow colored, weird looking birds he could find, captioned by _'Hey Richie, it's you.'_ every now and then.  
  


"Eddie," she started, giving his knee a supportive little squeeze. "Sweetie..."  
  


Eddie gulped, turning his big, brown eyes to her and asking, just a little strained, "Bev, am I gay?"  
  


Bev squeezed his knee just a little tighter. "Honey, I don't know... Are you?" she asked gently. "I know you were married, but have you ever... you know, been attracted to women?"  
  


He shrugged, his voice barely a whisper. "I honestly don't think so."  
  


She paused. "Have you ever been attracted to _men_?"  
  
He shrugged again. And if Beverly thought he was maybe a little more unsure, a little more hesitant about it that time, she chose not to mention it.   
  


"Eds? Do you want the number for my therapist's office?"  
  


"Yes please."  
  


Surprising absolutely no one, Eddie took to therapy like a fish to water.   
  


"Dr. Nygard informed me that the fact that I haven't already been in therapy with a history of trauma like mine is a travesty, and he is surprised I haven't literally exploded."  
  


Bev looked up from her sketchbook to grin at him as he plopped himself down across from her at the kitchen table. "And that's without the clown shit!" Eddie rolled his eyes.  
  


"Don't remind me."  
  


It was only after his third week of biweekly sessions that he walked in, slammed the door behind him, marched to the refrigerator, fixed himself a tumbler of gin and prune juice (heavy on the gin), downed it all in one gulp, and threw his hands up in the air, proclaiming to Bev, God, and everyone, "Yup, I'm gay."   
  


"Officially?"   
  


He mixed himself another drink, thankfully taking a little bit more time to finish this one. "Officially. Super gay, super repressed, super fucked."  
  


"Oh, sweetie."  
  


"No, no, it's fine. It's good. I'm good." He took a big, heavy gulp. "Just reevaluating my entire life. All peachy here."   
  


Standing up from her seat, Bev crossed the kitchen to wrap him in a hug. "I'm proud of you," she mumbled into his hair. He made a little grunt of thanks into her shoulder. "Maybe you should give Richie a call and talk with him about all this."  
  


He barked out a laugh. "Richie? No. No way. I will not be talking to Richie about this. Ever."  
  


" _Eddie_."  
  


"Nope. Not gonna happen. It's not even the same thing with us." He broke from her hug, his hand slicing through the air as he began to pace. "Repression versus suppression. Two entirely different gay crisis. That asshole knew he was gay and suppressed it into submission to keep up his whole dirtbag, frat boy persona. I, on the other hand, apparently had one whisper of an adolescent gay thought as a kid and I noped the fuck out of reality, repressing it all until the fucking clown brought it right on back after three _fucking_ decades."  
  


"Oh."  
  


"Yeah, _oh._ "  
  


Bev felt a small, giddy smile start to creep onto her lips. "Sooo, what kind of adolescent, gay thoughts were you having while we were kids, Eds?"  
  


Eddie stopped his pacing just long enough to glare. " _That's_ the part you want to focus on right now?"  
  


"Sorry, sorry! Just curious." She bit her lip, the desire to grin coming on stronger. "Do these gay thoughts have anything to do with you refusing to talk to Richie?"  
  


Eddie froze, his eyebrows furrowing, and the very tips of his ears turning a dusty pink. "I am _not_ having this conversation right now," he replied curtly, marching out of the kitchen.   
  


"Ooh, it does!" she squealed, skipping after him.   
  


And okay, maybe she _was_ a little more of a middle school girl than she wanted to admit, but come on! Eddie _totally_ had a crush on Richie! Besides, Eddie was nothing if not stubborn, and if he really didn't want to talk about this, he would have made that abundantly clear. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, blushing up to his hair, slumped over his gin and prune juice, putting on the worst attempt of Not Wanting to Talk About It, while _clearly, desperately_ wanting to talk about it that Beverly had ever seen.  
  


It would be rude _not_ to indulge.   
  


Smiling slyly, she slipped next to him on the couch. "It's okay if you like Richie," she began, delighting as his face got even pinker. "He's kinda dreamy."  
  


"He is _not_ dreamy."  
  


"He _is_ , though."  
  


"He looks like a Muppet."  
  


"He does _not_. I was right about him growing into his looks. He's got those shoulders, and that jaw." She paused, enjoying watching Eddie squirm, somewhat sadistically. "He's _tall_."   
  


Eddie groaned, dropping his head onto Bev's shoulder as she laughed and ran her fingers through his hair. "I wish the clown had killed me."  
  


"Oh shush, you do not. Don't be such a drama queen,"   
  


"That's homophobic."  
  


She giggled, elbowing him playfully. "You should talk to him."

  
"I will never talk to him." He ran a ran though his hair. "It's way too– What if I don't like him as much as I think I think I do? What if how I feel about him is just some, I don't know, _residue_ from how I felt as a kid? Or! Even worse! What if I only _think_ I have feelings for him? What if the only reason I feel like I like him is because he's the only openly gay guy I know, and I'm just, like, _latching_ on to him?" He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Who's to even say he would like me like back anyway? And I... I don't want to do anything or say anything that might hurt our friendship... Make things awkward... Not after finally getting him back."  
  


Bev smiled at him softly. "That's probably a bit of a sign that you really like him, sweetie."   
  


"I was afraid you'd say that," he said, smiling wryly.   
  


Bev wrapped her arm around his shoulders pulling him close. "For the record, I think he'd be crazy not to like you back. But, I'll tell you what, I'll set you up with some of the guys I work with– Don't give me that look, I work in fashion, there is no shortage of hot, single, gay men I know in this city. I'll set you up on some dates, _zero pressure_ , and then you can decide once and for all how you really feel about Richie. How does that sound?"  
  


"It _sound_ s fucking embarrassing." He shook his head. "But why not? My life can't get any fucking weirder. Let's see what happens."  
  


It was two evenings later, as Bev was talking to Ben over video-chat on their computers, that her phone vibrated next to her on the desk, Ben's following just a few moments behind, with a text from Eddie in the group chat.  
  


**Eddie :  
** _Hey everyone, I just wanted to let you guys know that, after almost a month of therapy, I am exploring the possibility that I may be gay. Bev is setting me up on some dates with some guys that she knows through work in order to help me figure out some things, but I wanted you all to be the first ones to know. I don't think I would have had the balls to confront this stuff without you. Love you, you fucking losers.  
  
_

Though the screen, Ben smiled softly. "Oh man, that's so huge. Good for him."  
  


Bev nodded. "Yeah, he was pretty sh–" she began, pausing as he phone started ringing, " _Richie_ " flashing across the screen. She grinned, holding it up to the camera for Ben to see. He rolled his eyes playfully. "Three guesses what this is about," she giggled.   
  


Ben snorted. "Bet I could get it in one."  
  


She smirked, answering the phone and putting it on speaker for Ben to enjoy as well. "Hi Richie."  
  


" _What the_ actual fuck _, Bev?!_ "  
  


Ben laughed, quickly putting himself on mute to not give himself away, as Bev bit her lip, trying not to laugh as well. "I'm doing well, Rich, how are you?"  
  


" _Is this because I didn't answer when you called last week? Is that why you're doing this? To get back at me? Because I told you I was stuck in a fucking meeting, and this is way over the fucking line, if that's what this is._ "  
  


"Richie, what are you talking about?" she asked, feigning innocence. Over the video, Ben was shaking his head, chucking to himself as Richie continued to sputter over the phone.   
  


" _Oh, you know damn well what I'm talking about, Marsh_ ," he snapped.  
  


Bev leaned back in her chair, watching fondly as Ben silently scrolled through the group chat, periodically showing her the sweet messages he, Bill, Mike, and Stan were exchanging with Eddie while she was busy with Richie. "Is this about Eddie?"  
  


" _Of_ _fucking_ _course it's about Eddie! He comes out, and you immediately start throwing guys at him? What the fuck, Bev?_ "  
  


She grinned. "Why does it matter? What, did you want me to set you up on some dates too? I can do that, you just had to ask."  
  


Richie let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl, causing Ben to look up from his phone in surprise. " _Bev_ ," he groaned, before grumbling out a quiet, " _You know how I feel about him, dude_."  
  


Ben pouted sympathetically. Bev sighed, softening. "Do I, Rich? Because the last time I tried to talk to you about it, you changed the subject so fast, I got whiplash."   
  


" _Yeah, well,_ " he drawled, trailing off to let out a heavy sigh. " _He was fucking straight back then. Things change_."  
  


"I don't know about that, from the sounds of things, he's never been all that straight." At Richie's sudden, very heavy silence, she ran a hand through her hair and continued. "You should talk to him."  
  


" _Yeah, that's not gonna happen._ "  
  


These idiots.   
  


"Richie..."  
  


" _No, Bev. You can't..._ " he sighed, cutting himself off. " _Look, this isn't, like, a new thing, okay? There are like, layers to this shit. This is the shit the clown used against me, alright? I can't just... Eddie's... Eddie's_ it _for me okay? And yeah, that's a horrible way to phrase things, with our clown trauma and all that, but it's fucking true. He's it. He's always been it. He's_ _like, the_ one _. And I thought... He's... I fucking..._ "   
  


Bev met Ben's eyes through the screen, sharing a silent, warm smile between them. "I always knew you were secretly a romantic, Trashmouth," she said with a smile.   
  


" _Yeah, well, I had years of practice with Eddie's mom, so..._ "  
  


"And there he is," she laughed. "Okay, here's the thing." She paused to shoot a pointed look at Ben's own questioning eyebrow raise, looking away from him before she could feel guilty and lose her nerve. "If Eddie finds out I said anything, he will _kill_ me, so this doesn't leave this conversation, do you understand?"  
  


" _What are you_ – _?_ "  
  


"Tozier. Do. You. Understand?"  
  


" _Sure, yeah, whatever, weirdo. What is it?_ "  
  


"Okay, so, again, not a word of this gets back to Eddie, okay Rich? I mean it."  
  


" _Oh my god, Bev. Just spit it out, already._ "  
  


"Eddie _likes_ you," she told him quickly, drawing out the 'like' and feeling very thirteen all of a sudden, the words spilling out now that the floodgates were open. "He liked you when we were kids, but he repressed everything, because, I mean, _obviously_ , but once we all met up again, it all came back to him and he just realized that he still has feelings for you."  
  


Silence.   
  


Bev poked her screen, double checking that the call hadn't been dropped.   
  


"Rich?" she asked tentatively. "Did you hear–?"  
  


Richie cleared his throat, a loud, rough sound that Bev had a feeling was primarily to keep her from hearing any other sounds that may have been coming out of him at that moment. " _Uh, y-yeah Bevvie_ ," he croaked. " _I, uh, I heard you._ "  
  


She pursed her lips. "And...?"  
  


" _Dude, like, give me a second, okay? I'm having an internal meltdown, here._ " Bev heard him exhale shakily through the speaker. " _Okay... Okay. So, you're like, sure? Like you aren't fucking with me? He said that?_ "  
  


"Why would I fuck with you about this, Richie?"  
  


" _I don't know! Why are you setting him up on dates?! Apparently it's, fucking, Ruin Richie's Life Day!_ "  
  


Bev rolled her eyes, Ben now obviously, silently laughing at them over the video, but clearly more invested in whatever was now going on in the group chat. "Yes, he told me, okay? But he's still, like, super nervous about this whole thing. He's only come to terms with being gay like, a few days ago, so he wants to make sure that he likes you like he thinks he does before he does or says anything, you know how he is. He's scared to ruin your friendship by jumping into something with you too soon."  
  


Bev could picture Richie pacing around his apartment. " _So you're gonna parade a bunch of male models around in front of him and show him how much better he can do? That's helpful, thanks_."   
  


"I never said anything about male models."  
  


" _Well, compared to me, they might as well be._ "  
  


Bev sighed. She was going to need a strong drink after all this. "Oh god, you too? First Eddie, and now– Listen, you are hot."  
  


" _I am not hot._ "  
  


"Eddie thinks you're hot."  
  


" _Now I know you're fucking with me. Eddie would never call me hot._ "  
  


"Okay, yeah, he said you looked like a Muppet," Bev admitted, and even through the phone, she could tell Richie was smiling like the lovesick sap he was. "But he does, in fact, think you are hot, even if he wont admit it. And you are! And so is he! You guys are going to drive me crazy with this."  
  


" _Does... does he not think he's hot?_ " Richie asked, strangely quiet all of a sudden. Ben met her eyes through the video and raised his eyebrows. " _Has he, like, seen himself?_ "  
  


She grinned. "Maybe if the boy he has a crush on told him as such..."  
  


" _Nice try. Not happening. Maybe one of the models you set him up with can do it before they run off into the sunset together and shit directly all over all of my hopes and dreams._ "  
  


"Rich."  
  


" _No, no, don't let me and my big, gay, thirty year crush stand in Eddie's way. I hope he and Derek Zoolander are very happy together._ "  
  


"I am hanging up on you now," she said, shaking her head. "Just be patient and give Eddie some time. I think you'll be happy with the result."  
  


O  
  


The first date Bev set Eddie up on was with a purchasing agent named Hugh, who worked at the New York Rogan & Marsh branch. He was organized, put together, clean, polite, a bit stoic, and good with numbers and statistics in a way that Bev had never been able to understand, but assumed Eddie could probably relate.   
  


"You know Bev, if you really think so little of me, you could have just told me outright to my face, instead of setting me up with the most boring man in the entire world."  
  


He also happened to be pretty much everything Richie _wasn't,_ which had maybe, possibly, been Bev's plan from the very beginning.  
  


"Aw, you didn't like Hugh?" she asked innocently, a little pout on her lips.   
  


Eddie's nose scrunched up in that way it had since childhood as he settled her with an incredulous glare and loosened the tie from his neck. "Oh, was that his name? I must have missed that after I fell asleep before appetizers from being forced to spend an hour with _the most boring man in the entire world_."   
  


Bev grinned as he plopped himself down next to her on the couch. "So, no to Hugh?"  
  


"No to Hugh."   
  


The next date on the list was a quirky little guy from advertising named Lenn, who was ten years Eddie's junior, and described himself as 'The Three F's' fun, flamboyant, and fuckable. He was about three inches shorter than Eddie, with an absolutely killer physique, fluffy, blond hair cut into a trendy fade, and a fantastic sense of fashion.   
  


Eddie didn't even humor her with words when he came home that evening, simply flipping her off and slamming the door to his room in Bev's cackling face.   
  


It was Ben's idea to set Eddie up with an actual model named Kurt next (because it was hilarious and Richie deserved it. Mike and Stan in particular were both ecstatic at the idea; Bill, the softie, felt bad so she ignored him). Predictably, Richie called her in an absolute panic the next afternoon.  
  


" _You said you weren't going to set him up with models!_ " he cried, just shy of hysterical.   
  


"No, I said I didn't specifically say models, not that models were off the table."   
  


" _Oh my god, they're gonna fuck on a table,_ " he sobbed. Bev rolled her eyes and hung up.   
  


That date had, according to Eddie, probably gone the best out of the three of them, though he did admit to missing half of what the man was saying, distracted by Kurt's good looks.   
  


(The fact that Kurt happened to be tall with messy, dark hair, thick-framed glasses, and wide shoulders didn't come up, suspiciously.)  
  


"So you'd want to see him again?" she asked, scooting down on the couch for him to join her.   
  


Eddie shook his head, sighing as if upset with himself about what he was about to say as well. "No... I mean, he was hot, don't get me wrong, he was _hot_. But I don't think he was... I don't know. Right? The right one? For me?" He blinked, his eyes shooting to Bev's nervously. "Is that crazy? That's crazy. I'm crazy."  
  


"You aren't crazy."  
  


"I'm a little crazy."  
  


"Crazy for Richie maybe."  
  


Bev bit back her smirk as Eddie's mouth hung open, a rosy flush creeping up his neck. "Bev!" he sputtered.  
  


Bev grinned, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But you have to admit I have a point."  
  


"No. You have no points. Zero points. Pointless."  
  


"Eds," she sighed, dropping her head on top of his shoulder and pouting up at him. "We both know that unless the man across from you is a sloppy, legally blind comedian with horrible fashion sense and a gigantic forehead, you will not be happy. We both know this. Please admit this."  
  


Eddie bit his lip, refusing to meet her gaze.   
  


"We all have to do things we're afraid of sometimes, Eddie," she mumbled softly. "We know that better than anyone. Sometimes you need to face your fears head on so you can begin moving past them, get over them, embrace them." She squeezed his knee playfully. "Like admit you want to be boned down by Richie Tozier."  
  


"Oh my _god,_ Bev–!"  
  


"Or maybe you want to bone him down, I don't know. You boys do whatever you feel is right, the point is," she paused to wrap her arms around him in a comforting hug. He hugged her back warmly, despite his annoyance. "One more date. Let me set you up on one more date, and then you can do whatever you want."  
  


Eddie remained quiet for a few long moments, before finally letting out a long sigh. Bev didn't have to ask if he knew what she was thinking, she could tell he knew, and he was ready.   
  


He opened his eyes, finally meeting hers, and allowed her one, small, nervous smile. "One more date."  
  


O  
  


By the time the evening of the infamous date finally rolled around, Beverly was honestly amazed Eddie hadn't vibrated himself out of existence with how he was nervously flittering around the apartment.   
  


In the span of the hour, she had seen him empty the dishwasher, organize the spice rack, wash the windows, make a sandwich, not even eat the sandwich (she happily ate the sandwich), and vacuum, and that was only the stuff he did in the open where she could see him. He disappeared every ten minutes or so into his bedroom, only to come striding out again minutes later looking freshly flustered and ready to burst.  
  


It was actually super adorable to see him so nervous, but as she valued her life, she chose to keep that little thought to herself.   
  


"Honey, can I help you out at all?" she asked instead, smiling softly. "Do you need like, a shoulder rub? Or a hug? You look like you need a hug."  
  


Eddie ran a hand through his hair. "Bevvie, I love you, but I'm pretty sure if you touch me right now, I will _actually_ implode. So thank you, but no."  
  


She giggled, shaking her head. "It's going to be fine. You do know that, right? This isn't like, a joke to him." At his incredulous look, she continued. "If there is _anything_ that man is willing to take seriously, it's the opportunity to go on a date with you. He is probably shitting himself even more than you are right now."  
  


"That does make me feel better," he admitted with a smirk, just as a quick _'shave and a haircut'_ was knocked into the door, making him jump. "Oh fuck, he's here," he squeaked, his eyes wide as he spun to face her in a panic. "How do I look?"  
  


"So handsome I want to cry," she told him honestly, because he truly did, all sharp angles and deep hues to bring out his eyes. She had dressed him after all, and it was definitely some of her best work.   
  


"Okay. Okay! I got this, I totally, fucking...Nope. Nopenopenope. Bev, please go answer the door for me, I don't think I can."  
  


She rolled her eyes, but she loved him, so she answered the door.  
  


And came face to face with Stanley Uris.  
  


"Stan?"  
  


He nodded dejectedly, thumbing over his shoulder towards where the most anxious looking Richie Tozier she had ever seen stood rigidly, grasping a bouquet of deep red roses until his knuckles were white (but still managing to look downright gorgeous in that unique, Richie way of his. Oh man, Eddie was going to _flip_ ). "Someone was a _little_ nervous and needed some emotional support," Stan explained, clearly exhausted.   
  


"And you came up from Georgia to do it?" she asked, impressed. The ' _ah, so you were dealing with the other half of this idiot cocktail_ ' going unsaid, but loud and clear between the two of them. She could only begin to imagine how the Richie side of things must have been.   
  


Stan shrugged, the amusement in his eyes betraying the annoyance he was trying so hard to project. "Patty decided it was sweet and that I should be a good friend and help him out. Is Eddie ready to go?"  
  


"I think so." She shrugged. "He was like thirty seconds ago, so he still should be. In theory."  
  


Stan smirked at that, just a quick one, before turning to Richie and clapping his hands. "Okay, champ," he chirped, "let's go, you've got reservations to keep."  
  


Bev inwardly cooed at the fact that Richie fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants Tozier had actually thought ahead enough to make them _reservations_ and bit back a fond smile. "I'll go make sure Eddie is–"  
  


"Hi Richie."  
  


Eddie, smiling bashfully but looking more calm than he had all day, stood in the doorway, a shy smile on his lips and his jacket draped over his arm.   
  


Richie's eyes widened as he stood up straighter. "Eds," he breathed.  
  


"You got me flowers?" Eddie asked, glancing down at Richie's hands, and smirking, though not unkindly. Richie beamed.   
  


"I mean, they're actually for your mom, if you wouldn't mind passing 'em along."  
  


"Oh my god, you are the fucking worst," Eddie snorted, grabbing the bouquet from Richie and smacking him in the shoulder with it as Richie laughed. "Come on, you asshole, let's go before I change my mind."   
  


Richie, delighted, let Eddie take his hand and lead him down the hallway.  
  


"Make good choices!" Bev called after them, giggling when Eddie flipped her off over his shoulder and shoved Richie into the elevator. Next to her, Stan shook his head.  
  


"Please tell me you have alcohol," he mumbled. Bev grinned and led him inside to pick his poison.   
  


O  
  


They weren't in middle school anymore, but there were times, times like these, when a little tweenage-esque gossip session with friends was more than a little necessary.   
  


"You _do_ know they're gonna end up back at your apartment tonight," Mike stated matter of factly from the little window he was sharing with Bill on Stan's laptop screen. Bill nodded sagely next to him, ignoring Bev's scandalized expression.  
  


"No way!" she argued. "Richie has a hotel room!"  
  


Bill winced, shaking his head. "Bev, Eddie Kaspbrak is _not_ going to have s-sex in a hotel room." She opened her mouth to argue, but Bill simply pointed at the camera. "Stan, pl-please tell her. We've known Eds the longest."  
  


"I brought earplugs," Stan agreed unhelpfully. The others laughed as she gasped at him in betrayal.   
  


"No! _Guys_ ," she moaned. "Eddie has been _so_ much better about his germ thing lately, seriously!" She took a swig of her beer and pointed the lip of the bottle vaguely at the screen. "He's willing to have _sex_ with _Richie!_ " she cried, which _did_ elicit a kind of 'you-have-a-point-there' hum from Mike, but not much else. She huffed. "Ben, sweetheart, _please_ tell them that Stan and I have nothing to worry about tonight."  
  


Sweet, sweet Ben, looking adorably uncomfortable discussing their friend's sexual escapades, the gentleman, pulled a face. "I mean," he began slowly, shrugging helplessly. "Eddie _does_ like his privacy."  
  


Mike hummed again, his eyebrows raised at Bill, who, along with Stan, deliberately shook his head.   
  


"We'll see t-tonight I guess," Bill replied easily. "Don't say we didn't warn you."  
  


O  
  


Bev startled awake a few hours later, the sound of the front door slamming open and then closed, followed by a few harsh shushes and tipsy giggles tearing her out of her peaceful slumber.   
  


From the air mattress on the floor next to her bed, a very smug Stanley Uris held up two foam earplugs, not even bothering to open his eyes.  
  


Bev rolled her eyes, but popped them into her ears, smiling proudly as she snuggled her head back into her pillow. 

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! This was one of like several WIPs I have going on, but hopefully now that's it's summer and I don't have to play teacher all day every day for a few months, I'll be able to write more. Here's hoping!
> 
> I'd love to explore this story from Stan's point of view someday, but I also never want to read it ever again, so I make no promises. Ha!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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